


We'll Take A Cup Of Kindness Yet

by cerie



Category: The Newsroom (US TV)
Genre: F/M, New Years Eve
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-31
Updated: 2013-12-31
Packaged: 2018-01-06 23:08:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,359
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1112606
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cerie/pseuds/cerie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Will hasn’t looked at her like this in so long that MacKenzie has forgotten what it feels like to be on the receiving end of this gaze. “Do you ever...do you ever wonder what it might be like if you just said fuck all the rules and did what you wanted for a night? If you could do anything without fear of consequences? If there was no way you could be rejected after making the grand overture?”</p>
            </blockquote>





	We'll Take A Cup Of Kindness Yet

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Callie](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Callie/gifts).



> Should old acquaintance be forgot  
> And never brought to mind  
> Should all acquaintance be forgot  
> And auld lang syne
> 
> For auld lang syne, my dear,  
> For auld lang syne,  
> We'll take a cup o' kindness yet,  
> For auld lang syne
> 
> And surely you will buy your cup  
> And surely I'll buy mine  
> And we'll take a cup o'kindness yet  
> For auld lang syne
> 
> We too have run around the slopes  
> And picked the daisies fine  
> We've londoned many weary foot  
> Since auld lang syne
> 
> For auld lang syne, my dear,  
> For auld lang syne,  
> We'll take a cup o' kindness yet,  
> For auld lang syne
> 
> We too have paddled in the stream  
> From morning sun to night  
> But the seas between us broad have roared  
> From auld lang syne
> 
> For auld lang syne, my dear,  
> For auld lang syne,  
> We'll take a cup o' kindness yet,  
> For auld lang syne  
> We'll take a cup o'kindness yet  
> For auld lang syne

“I’m not going,” MacKenzie says listlessly, picking at a piece of lint on her blanket as she listens to Sloan’s latest plea for her to come out at New Years. She has a boyfriend this year, some financial analyst at Goldman Sachs, and she wants to show him off. MacKenzie wants to wallow in her own self-pity and let 2011 slide into 2012 without much fanfare. Apparently Sloan feels the need, as her only female friend, to not let that happen.

“I’m coming over. We’re going to make this happen because you are _not_ staying in on New Years’ Eve. You’re not.”

MacKenzie sighs and acquiesces, thinking she can always just oust Sloan later by looking sufficiently pathetic. She imagines it won’t be much of a put-upon, considering she looks just this side of drowned kitten at the moment. She falls back against the couch and sighs heavily and thinks, possibly, it would be slightly less pathetic if she were a drowned kitten.

***

“I bring libations and sound advice!” MacKenzie is regretting having given Sloan a key to her apartment because when she doesn’t immediately open the door, Sloan merely lets herself in. She has a bottle of champagne, good champagne, and looks a little inebriated already. Considering it’s just past six, that’s a fairly early start for the all night affair that is surely in Sloan’s future.

“I really don’t want to go out,” MacKenzie protests but Sloan is hearing none of it, instead hauling her off the couch and taking her back to her closet. MacKenzie has converted her second bedroom into a walk-in of epic proportions, with custom shelving and a beautiful wooden cabinet for all her shoes (it is, of course, quite a lot of shoes.) Sloan oohs and ahhs over the set up and announces she’ll need to get the number of MacKenzie’s interior designer before she starts flipping through her gowns to make her choices. 

“Why do you have so many couture evening gowns anyway? I didn’t think you went out that much.” MacKenzie gives her a pointed look. “You’re forgetting my ex boyfriend is a celebrity who often took me as his date to various red carpet affairs.” Sloan purses her lips and shakes her head, as if she’s trying to decide if she should say what she’s thinking about. There’s a war for a moment before she speaks again.

“But Will never…” Sloan trails off. MacKenzie hopes she doesn’t have to further explain that while Will absolutely despises going to parties and hobnobbing with the rich and famous, he knew that MacKenzie loved getting to do red carpets and charity balls and would often obtain invitations solely to make her happy. As to all the designer gowns in her closet, she often got loaned something from a designer for an event and liked it so well that Will later bought it. Jewelry too. 

“Well. What about this one?” Sloan pulls out a long black gown and MacKenzie shakes her head. She doesn’t want to go out anyway but if she was going out, she’d like to not be wearing the same thing as everyone else. Black and gold are traditional New Years’ colors and she’d like to stand out a bit if she’s going to go and make an entrance. She doesn’t think she will. The last thing she wants is to look pathetic in front of Will and his new girlfriend the way he had in front of she and Wade last year. Eugh. Wade. Best to leave that one firmly in the past. 

“Look, Sloan, I would really rather just stay home if my options are to go out and see Will fawning over Nina Howard or watch Ryan Seacrest from the privacy of my own bedroom.” Sloan makes a little face and pulls MacKenzie’s hand over to examine it. She makes a satisfied little noise and drops it and MacKenzie isn’t entirely sure what train of thought just left the station because she’s still in the depot. 

“Just like I thought, your cuticles are horrible. If you’d been going to get your nails done regularly, you’d know Will was back in the tabloids for two weeks running. The on-again, off-again love affair with the sassy blonde from the other side of the broadsheets is through,” Sloan says airily. “Nina calls them off when they’re dating and puts them back on him full force when they’re fighting. Last week she said he had hair plugs.”

Suddenly MacKenzie understands why Will took three times as long in hair and makeup than usual but it still doesn’t change anything, not really. Will has made it perfectly evident that he is no longer interested in her for anything beside her spectacular producing. She makes him look good on air and that’s all he needs. He doesn’t need _MacKenzie_ any longer. Still, there’s no reason why she can’t just turn up at the ACN party for a little while and express her gratitude to her staff. They will all be happy to see her even if Will is sulking in a corner somewhere.

“All right, fine. We’ll go. But I’m not wearing black.” Sloan pumps the air with her fist and gets to work, pulling out a long dusty blue Elie Saab gown that plunges low in both the front and back. The skirt has flounces with little crystals that catch the light, perfect for New Years Eve when everything is meant to be shining and sparkling to herald the arrival of a new year. She pairs it with a showstopper of a necklace in diamonds and platinum, and it’s daring considering that had been a gift from Will for one of the birthdays she spent with him. He’s bound to recognize it. He’d taken her to Harry Winston and let her pick whatever she wanted and that had been the choice.

The gown doesn’t afford her the luxury of a bra so she and Sloan discreetly puts a bit of double sided tape on it and hopes that gravity doesn’t end up causing a wardrobe malfunction. MacKenzie just prays it’s warm inside the AWM building so everyone isn’t getting a show. Neither she nor Sloan are particularly skilled at hair and makeup so MacKenzie coaxes her hair into a simple twist and puts on enough concealer to hide the circles beneath her eyes. She dabs a little red lipstick on and flicks on a coat of mascara. It’s not much but Will’s never liked much, not like that. She doesn’t care what other men think.

They drink a little more and eventually take a cab down to AWM to go to the party, riding up in the elevator arm in arm. When the doors open, Sloan shoves her out into the room, leaving her on her own. 

God, she feels exposed.

She scans the room and sees Will, chatting idly with Don. He turns and apparently sees her because his champagne glass goes crashing to the ground, shattering into a million pieces. He blinks, seemingly dumbfounded, and bends down to help the waitress clear away the glass. He apparently gets a bit in his index finger because he curses and brings it up to his lips to suck; MacKenzie wishes it was _her_ finger. Jesus Christ, he’s always looked good in a suit but especially a tux. She doesn’t know how she’s going to get through this.

Will crosses over to her and stops well within her personal space. He’s so close that it would be nothing to just slide into his arms and MacKenzie waits for the sensation of his big, warm hands against her bare shoulders - there’s a rough place on his left palm where he cut himself on a broken Dewar’s bottle as a little boy and she used to always kiss it, trying to ease the pain of that memory every time they were together. She likes to think that Will’s eyes didn’t always look so sad, that his mouth turned up into a smile more often than not. Their separation has weighed heavily on him and while it’s possibly conceited of her, she doesn’t think he’d be dropping a champagne glass for Nina Howard. No. It’s _MacKenzie_ because he does the same damn thing to her when he walks into a room. 

“You look spectacular,” Will says, voice catching a little. It’s husky and low, warmed over with cigarettes and scotch. She knows he’s been smoking more because he always does when he’s stressed. What can be more stressful than their complicated love lives? Oh, just the entire show hanging by the very thin thread of a ratings drop and a tabloid threat. Minor thing, really. Hardly mentionable.

His word choice is particularly poignant given the content of the message so willingly relayed to her by Nina Howard. _You were spectacular tonight,_ she hears echoed in her mind. Even though it had been Nina who told her, MacKenzie always hears it in Will’s voice. She imagines it was low and warm with pride and affection. Sometimes, when she’s feeling particularly masochistic, she imagines a hint of longing in it, desire and heat smoked through. She imagines it being followed with something more personal, something he’d never say without the courage of THC, and she melts a little.

“Oh, this? Just hiding in the back of the closet.” Will nods and touches the necklace lightly, the pads of his fingers brushing against her skin and sending a blush racing across her cheeks and chest. God. This is entirely too intimate for them even if it’s child’s play by anyone else’s standards. Even this simple touch evokes a response in her that feels rather like being walloped in the kneecaps; it’s hard to focus. 

“Surprised you kept this. You could have sold it.” MacKenzie shakes her head. She’d never sell anything Will gave her. All his presents were precious to her and since they broke up, they’re the only connection she has to him. She keeps them all out of nostalgia and longing and usually keeps them locked away so she doesn’t hurt him with it. It must be as painful for him to see these diamonds on her as it is for her to wear them.

“Do you want a cigarette?” It’s a little abrupt but MacKenzie thinks fresh air and nicotine will do a wonder of good for them both. She hardly ever smokes but tonight she’s going to drink champagne and steal one of Will’s cigarettes even though he smokes Winston Golds and she prefers Marlboro Reds. “Let’s go outside.”

***

It’s cool and crisp but not unbearably cold. Still, with the wind, MacKenzie is wishing she had more than her thin little wrap to keep her warm tonight. Will shrugs off his tuxedo jacket and drapes it across her shoulders without so much as a word before drawing out his cigarette case and lighter. They’re both engraved silver and very fine, presents from her on two separate birthdays. It seems Will has more than his fair share of nostalgia too, considering how often he uses both of these items. He offers her a cigarette and leans in and lights it for her, cupping his hand against the wind until the end of it glows red. That done, he lights his own, takes a drag and exhales slowly.

“Are you here with anyone?” MacKenzie asks, voice trembling a little in fear of the answer. She doesn’t think he’d have reacted so strongly if he were but she’d like to know if she has a chance with him before she puts herself out there. She finds that her mild buzz is evaporating quickly in the night air and leaving her with jangled nerves instead. She used to find interacting with Will so easy and natural and now, sometimes, it feels like she’s exposed and everything is wrong. She simply feels too much. Will shakes his head. “No. Currently, I find myself single.” 

He doesn’t elaborate and MacKenzie doesn’t press. She finishes her cigarette and stubs it out on the railing, unsure of what to do with the butt, when Will plucks it from her fingers and tucks it into his pants pocket. He finishes his own and then turns a little, watching her with eyes that are dark and heated. Fuck. Will hasn’t looked at her like this in so long that MacKenzie has forgotten what it feels like to be on the receiving end of this gaze. “Do you ever...do you ever wonder what it might be like if you just said fuck all the rules and did what you wanted for a night? If you could do anything without fear of consequences? If there was no way you could be rejected after making the grand overture?”

MacKenzie’s heart lodges in her throat. She thinks (hopes) he’s talking about her and talking about them but she doesn’t dare say it aloud. She opens her mouth to say something else when Will covers it with his own, warm and entirely unexpected. She doesn’t quite know what to do with her arms so she holds them stiffly at her sides for a moment before easing them around him and pressing up close; Will responds by sliding his tongue along her lower lip and backing her away from the railing and toward a little alcove on the roof that offers some protection from prying eyes and bitter winds. 

He dips his knees a little and when he presses against her again, she can feel him warm and hard through his pants and her dress. MacKenzie moans and then whines when he pulls his mouth away; her lips still sting from his and she misses him already. His lips have found other places to explore, though, and he fixes them against her neck while his hand slides up her waist and cups her breast. His thumb teases her nipple through the thin fabric of her dress and MacKenzie shifts, trying to ignore the heat between her thighs. It’s been too long for her to dance around this with Will. His lips slide lower and lower, between her breasts, and he slides the bit of fabric covering her away so she’s exposed to the cool air. It’s not nearly cold enough to cause any real concern for frostbite but it’s still a shock and she cries out, only for him to fix his mouth against her nipple; the temperature contrast is enough to make her go weak in the knees.

He tugs at her nipple with his teeth lightly before letting it leave his mouth and his hand cups her breast even as he moves to the other one, giving it the same treatment. MacKenzie barely dares to breathe, too afraid someone else will sneak out to smoke while she’s half exposed even though Will’s arms and jacket will block the worst of it from view. He pulls up after what seems an impossibly long time and brushes his thumb against her kiss-swollen lower lip.

“Come home with me.” 

It’s not exactly a request but MacKenzie nods anyway, hair slipping down from her carefully-coiffed style.

***

It’s close to midnight and the press inside the bullpen is stifling, bodies crushed against one another in alcohol-fueled frenzy. Nobody seems to notice that Will has his hand in hers and they’re carefully winding their way out of the party instead of into it. As they get down the hall to the elevator, MacKenzie can hear the beginnings of the countdown. 10...9...8… She thinks about hitting stop on the elevator and trapping them between floors, pushing Will up against the wall for a quick fuck before they compose themselves and walk out of AWM. Ultimately, though, she decides against it. As long as they’ve waited, she wants it to be perfect.

Will’s apartment is closer than her own and they go there but MacKenzie wishes he didn’t live on the next to last floor. The elevator is interminable when all she wants is to get her hands on him and map out all the places she remembers and maybe learn a few new ones. She’s changed since they were last together, scars and age changing a few of the landmarks on her body but she thinks it’s still going to be familiar territory for him. She thinks he’ll still feel right at home when he touches her because nothing makes her feel so good as his hands on her. 

Once they’re inside his apartment, Will eases down her zipper with trembling fingers and the delicate dress slips down into a pool at her feet. She steps out of it and steps out of her heels; she has one hand hooked in her panties when suddenly the ground is gone beneath her feet and Will has swung her up into his arms. She wants to protest, given his knee and elbow, but she guesses that on a special occasion like tonight allowances can be made. He lays her across his bed and kneels between her thighs, lips kissing and nipping and teasing at the soft skin between her panties and the tops of her stockings. He’s always been a leg man and she’d chosen these stockings on the hopes he’d see them, on the off-chance that he’d go mad when he looked at her wearing sheer black with seams running down the back of her thighs. He does.

He eases them off carefully and she’s laying there on his bed clothed only in the ambient light of the city below. Strangely, though, she doesn’t feel exposed with Will. Vulnerable? Absolutely. But never exposed. He swallows and MacKenzie watches the twitch in his cheek and the way his fingers are clumsy against his shirt and pants, the way he hops a little to tug off his socks before his boxers. It’s so achingly familiar that she can’t pretend this is a dream painted hazy and golden. It’s real. It’s earth-shatteringly and potentially heartbreakingly real.

Will eases on top of her and catches her wrists in his hands, pushing them up over her head as he bends down to kiss her. She retaliates by hooking a leg over his hip and arching up against him, letting the tip of his cock brush against her but not go in. The sound he makes is low and guttural, a possessive little noise, and he rocks into her even as he fixes his mouth against her breast again. He moves slow, letting her feel every inch of his cock hit her deep before he eases away and it’s tantalizing and not at all enough. She groans in frustration and finally gets enough leverage to flip them, to ride him the way she’s wanted to since she saw him in that tux tonight.

She tips her head back and grinds down on him, squeezing around his cock so she can make him feel at least a tenth as good as she feels right now. Will digs his fingers into her hips and slides one hand over to press and rub at her clit, thumb working against her fast and haphazard as he gets close himself. He’s stubborn, trying to make her come first but she is too and she wins, drawing the orgasm out of him before he’s brought her off. It doesn’t matter, though, because she’s following soon after and the world seems bright with silver stars. 

“I never stopped loving you,” he whispers from beneath her. “I never stopped. I’ll never stop.”

She couldn’t have said it better herself.

***

The new year dawns cloudy and cold but MacKenzie doesn’t care. She’s curled up in Will’s arms, her head on his chest and her legs entwined with his. There’s a shadow of stubble against his cheek and a smile on his lips, even in sleep, and MacKenzie can’t help but be satisfied that _she_ put that smile there.

“Happy New Year, Billy. I love you,” she whispers. He cracks open his eyes just enough to roll them at her and presses his lips against hers. 

2012 is going to be a good year. She feels it in her bones.

**Author's Note:**

> Special thanks to Rach, who helped me pick out a dress for MacKenzie's spectacular entrance. 
> 
> The [dress](http://bestdress.com.ua/uploads/posts/2011-07/1310043770_38.jpg) is by Elie Saab and the [diamonds](http://www.harrywinston.com/store/jewels/new-york-collection/products/traffic-necklace) are by Harry Winston.


End file.
